


One Word, Many Meanings

by peacehopeandrats



Series: Rumbeelle Showdown 2020 [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hyperion Heights (Once Upon a Time), PWP, Rumbelle Showdown, Rumbelle Showdown 2020 (Once Upon a Time), Smut, Woven Lace, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacehopeandrats/pseuds/peacehopeandrats
Summary: Weaver wakes up late for work and must hurry through his morning, but can't ever seem to make it out the door. Is the fault his own or does someone else deserve the blame?Written for the first round of the Rumbelle Showdown, it is pure Woven Lace smut.After the showdown I continued this fic, adding a chapter.Nominated for Best Woven Lace in the 2021 TEAsThank you.
Relationships: Lacey/Rumplestiltskin | Weaver
Series: Rumbeelle Showdown 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855444
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	One Word, Many Meanings

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this one was lost keys and the instant I saw said prompt I had an image of Weaver searching for the Keys that weren't to be found while Lacey tried to keep him from going to work.
> 
> (If you want the continuation of this particular story, which was added after the showdown, skip to part 3 of the series. Yes, I did a strange thing.)

“Fuck!”

Lacy loved how that one word could have very different meanings depending on when it was used. Last night, when she spread herself on the mattress, glistening and ready? That fuck was a mix of ecstasy and pain. She’d forced Weaver to stand naked at the foot of the bed and pleasure himself while he stared down at her. And it was beautiful. He’d said it a few more times after that, all bliss and delight, but this morning’s exclamation told her in no uncertain terms that he was pissed. He ought to be. His alarm hadn’t gone off. She knew because she was the one who’d unplugged it.

Her mouth curled upward as she heard him scramble from the room and imagined the muscles of his body clenching in his frustration. The man was gorgeous when his muscles were tense, tight, and straining. It was tempting to roll over and watch him go, but she resisted. Lacy’s morning plans relied on her feigned innocence.

* * *

Weaver stood under the shower’s spray and fought to suppress the memory of last night. It wasn’t that he regretted meeting Lacy at Roni’s, or that he was unhappy about bringing her to his apartment, but the images left over from the evening were as tempting as she was. He held in a groan as he spread soap over his chest, remembering her foot pressed there, her whispered refusal when he tried to climb onto the bed.

“I want to see how much you need me,” she’d said. Then she’d nodded at his exposed erection. “Look down at me while you take care of that. I want to see you come.”

He’d objected at first. Why would she want him spent at the very beginning of their night together? But when her foot slid down his body and her legs spread open to reveal her readiness for him, he’d taken himself in hand before he even realized he’d moved. Never had he been so aroused. And the rest of the night was spent alternating between either unwinding from that glorious peak or building back up to it again.

His cock twitched at the thought of the woman in his bed and the temptation to ease that stirring was almost too strong to ignore, but Weaver was already late so he turned the water cold and hurried through the rest of his mourning routine

* * *

Lacy waited until the shower cut off to leave the bed. She put on Weaver’s discarded shirt and fastened only the last two buttons, making sure to leave her breasts tantalizingly exposed. After adjusting the way the fabric hung from her shoulders, she left the bedroom and made her way into the kitchen to start up a pot of coffee. Doors opened and closed as the detective hurried around, but she ignored the noise, casually examining the apartment she’d seen so little of up until now. Her plan needed a few tactfully chosen locations, after all.

He kept the place tidy, she had to give him credit for that. Even the refrigerator was organized and clean, which was more than she could say for any of the other guys she’d slept with. Most of them believed in only two food groups, one of which was always beer. There wasn’t much to the rest of the place, but it was at least tastefully furnished. She supposed a man working all hours didn’t really need all the bells and whistles in his private life. 

The kitchen held only a small table and two chairs and the living room was almost as barren. Weaver had all the usual stuff, though. There was a couch, a chair, and a TV, but the coffee and side tables were remarkably free of the circles that represented the ghosts of drinks long since consumed.

For once in her life she was impressed.

* * *

Weaver left the bedroom in a rush, eyes downcast as he fidgeted with the buckle of his belt. The scent of coffee was blissfully filling the apartment and he wondered if he’d have the time to grab some.

“Hey,” Lacy called to him, her voice so close it made him jump. 

He looked up to see her leaning against the wall by the kitchen. She had on his shirt from last night, barely buttoned and dangling tantalizingly close to those soft folds that had called to him so many times. “Hey.” The word barely escaped him as he swallowed. Hard.

Lacy lifted a steaming cup and the line of his shirt rose with it. So did his cock. “Made coffee. Thought you could use it.”

 _Don’t look. Don’t think about it,_ Weaver told himself as he closed the distance between them. It wasn’t the easiest advice to take. The scent of their night together still lingered on her skin. In the face of such torments, only one distraction would come to mind. “You seen my keys?”

It was the perfect cover. His eyes darted from the table by the door to the kitchen counter and swept over the floor at his feet. There was no reason to check the floor, of course, but he needed every excuse to keep his line of sight away from her exposed flesh.

“Nope.” Her answer was casual and she shrugged. Setting the cup on the kitchen table, Lacy moved around him to the living room. “But I’ll help you look.”

Weaver made a proper check of the hallway and kitchen before turning to follow her. He froze when his eyes found nothing but the round curves of Lacy’s perfect backside as she bent over the sofa. Her nimble fingers were practically fondling the cushions, sliding along the edge of each, tips dipping into the creases, palms cupping the rounded curves. He knew what those fingers could do, remembered those palms cupping his balls, and turned quickly to search elsewhere.

“Damn.” For good measure he patted his pockets, though he knew he wouldn’t find anything in them. With the determination of the desperate, he looked over every available surface in the room, unable to face the temptation of her flesh.

“You let us in,” Lacy crooned, her voice coming closer before she passed him to enter the hall. “They have to be here somewhere.”

He watched her move to the bedroom, realizing it wasn’t just his keys that were lost.

* * *

Lacy strutted down the hall and into the bedroom, knowing he would follow. “Did you check in here?”

She knelt down at the side of the bed, where his pants had landed the night before. Making certain to align her body with the door, she looked casually around. Legs slightly parted and backside lifted to the air, Lacy reached under the bed in a futile effort to touch something metal. 

She knew the moment he’d seen her. She heard that word again, this time a prayer. 

“Fuck.”

Something hit the wall and Lacy turned to see Weaver leaning against the door frame, shoulder pressed hard to the length of wood. “Not under here either.” She tucked her lip in her teeth and stood, then pouted up at him innocently. “Maybe you should call the station. Tell them you’ll be in when you can?”

Weaver lunged forward, eyes filled with lust. He caught hold of her and shoved her against the wall, pressing his body to hers and pinning her in place. “Fuck the station,” he growled.

Determination and recklessness this time. That’s what she had been waiting for.

He kissed her soundly, lifting her leg and guiding it over his hip as he prepared to take her again. Desperate to feel him inside of her, Lacy fumbled at the jeans that were already bulging and finally released him. When his hard length pressed to her hot center she gasped into his mouth. “Fuck, Weaver,” she begged, rocking her body against his as much as their position would allow.

At some point she’d have to get his keys from her purse and hand them over, but that could wait for another few hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't make it out of this round, but that was to be expected. (I even voted for my competition because I much preferred their story.)
> 
> I DID, however become instantly inspired by my competitor's prompt for the following round, so I began writing a fic for that which is totally unrelated to this one. Yes, THAT is where The Tent of Infinite Adventure came from. I simply conformed it to fit A Monthly Rumbelling when I saw the prompt for the month.
> 
> The second part of this series came from the prompt of my competitor's competitor. Confused yet?  
> Here's more confusion: If you want to read the next chapter in THIS set of 2, skip to part 3 of the Showdown fics series.


End file.
